


It's Okay to be Afraid

by painfulprose



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Adult Content, Angst, Angst and Humor, Camp Camp - Freeform, Crude Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, In Character (hopefully), Parents' Day (Camp Camp) Aftermath, Sexual Themes, Swearing, also David's job was left ambiguous on purpose, feedback is greatly appreciated!, feel free to speculate!, headcanons, i haven't been feeling the best lately and wanted to write something funny and sweet, i'm called painfulprose for a reason though ;3, something i wrote as practice to get back into Never Ending Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painfulprose/pseuds/painfulprose
Summary: Cameron Campbell's arrest led to the shutting down of Camp Campbell. With no Camp Camp to attend, all of the campers were sent home that same fateful day. ... Well, almost all of the campers.Max's parents couldn't be bothered to show up, so David ends up taking Max in. It's here that Max is forced to come to terms with the recent events.





	It's Okay to be Afraid

"So, how was school today, Max? I didn't get any complaints like usual." 

"... Eh. Maybe I finally decided to make things easier for you. Your dumbass sunshiney rainbow shtick might be rubbing off on me," came the dry reply. Though, he paused before adding: "Oh wait, no it fucking isn't." 

" _Max,_ " David began to scold, taking his eyes off the road for a brief second to give the child in the seat beside him a tiny glare. 

Max paid him no mind and waved his hand dismissively. He was far too busy staring out the window of the truck to give the adult an equally pissed off look. 

" _What?_ You know I'm not gonna stop swearing. It's not in my fucking nature, _David._ " 

"What? No. I wasn't upset about _that._ Getting you to stop cursing is the one and only thing in my life that I've completely given up on, unfortunately. I was just wondering if-" 

"HAH!" Max shouted without any warning, effectively cutting David off and even making him jump. The truck swerved a bit and nearly rammed into another nearby car, but it was SO fucking worth it. 

" _MAX!!_ " 

"David gave up on something! Because of ME!" 

"Max, please- oh gosh that could have ended badly..." 

"Hey! Don't you pin that shit on me, David! It's not _my_ fault you're such a baby." 

David only gave a contemplative hum at that, much to Max's dismay. 

Dammit! He'd been hoping to keep this stupid conversation going. If there was one thing that he was beginning to despise more and more each day, it was having to be stuck with his own thoughts for long. 

Sighing through his teeth, Max slumped back into his seat and grumpily looked back out of the window. Had he pissed David off? Probably not. 

That's what sucks. 

It's only been about two months of being forced to live with David in his shitty ass apartment. His good-for-nothing parents never showed up at the 'end' of camp, like he always knew they wouldn't. And what makes it even _worse_ is that David is taking him to and from his school! 

Yes. All the way back to his school back in his hometown. Every day. For no good reason. It's just a waste of time and gas, and he can't UNDERSTAND it. 

It's David, yeah, he knows that. He's just trying to be a- he doesn't even want to think of the word. 

Screwing his mouth up in silent distaste, he practically physically choked as he forced himself to let the word soundlessly roll off of his tongue.

David's acting like a _'parent'_. He's taking him to school. Like a _'parent'_ would. 

_An actually DECENT 'parent', anyway._

Max balled his hands up into his signature hoodie. His future looks pretty fucking grim when it's basically just the exact same routine as camp- just less formal, in a way, and with DAVID being his _'parental figure'_.

His schedule consists of going to school on school days ( just like attending camp activities), and annoying David (it's the only fun thing to do ANYWHERE, apparently). 

_God_ , he needs a life. 

The only thing that could make this day any worse is if David manages to get his way via pestering him about his 'exciting' time at prison. He can just _feel_ it coming... 

Any second now- 

"... Max..." 

Goddammit, can't he just be _WRONG_ for once?! 

"I _know_ you don't like talking about it-" 

"I don't like talking about _anything_ , David-" 

"Yes, I know that, too. But what I was going to say is... This is the most you've ever talked to me at once since the big move," the former camp counselor revealed with a little nervous chuckle and obviously fake enthusiasm. 

_'SHIT._ He's onto me', Max distressed internally.

"And I couldn't help but to also notice your increased unnecessary use of the F-word." 

''The F-word', fucking _really_ , David'. 

"If you're nervous about anything, you know you can always talk to me, Max. I'm not going to bite." 

'Did you really have to word it like that you pervert'.

"You trust me... don't you?" 

Max's eye twitched at that poorly masked guilt trip. Nuh-uh. No way. He is not going to fall for this bullshit. He's seen this a thousand times before. They act like they have your best interests at heart, and then they slowly but surely whittle and beat you down. 

He doesn't trust anyone. It's taking everything in him to NOT give David the answer he's looking for. 

Up goes the hood to his hoodie, and away goes Max's face. 

David sighs. "Max..." 

" _HHHHHHGGGGGHH-_ " 

" _Max._ Please stop having a temper tantrum-" 

" _IT'S NOT A TEMPER TANTRUM YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE._ " 

"Did I say something that upset you? Or is everything coming out of my mouth upsetting right now?" 

" _TAKE A WILD FUCKING GUESS._ " 

"Alright, point taken... I'm sorry, Max-" 

" _THE HELL DID I JUST SAY._ " 

And just like that, he had officially ended that conversation. Talking to David about 'trust' and the whole 'I support you' shtick made him want to throw up. In fact, maybe he would when he got 'home'. 

It was horrifying just how accurate David had been in his accusations. While he refused to acknowledge how much that scared him sometimes (being scared of DAVID is literally fucking impossible), it also made him just... really want to open up to the sad sack of shit. 

All of it was just too confusing and alien for his young mind to handle. He's been being WAY too fucking sentimental lately, hasn't he. That was the true reasoning behind his more-vulgar-than-usual attitude. 

He needed something to balance it out. And most importantly, he needed a distraction from all of this crap.

He needed to rummage through David's stuff when he left for work. Surprisingly, that thought hadn't even occurred to him until about a week ago. 

The whole transitioning thing had turned him into a lifeless callus. At least, that's how he'd liked to think of himself. He'd barely said a single word those first few weeks- most likely even the first month. 

School had begun demanding more and more from him, though, and over time he'd slowly forced himself out of that depressing shell. Unwillingly, of course. 

Having your parents hate you fucking SUCKS. 

Having parents who just never wanted you in the first place is somehow WORSE.

He wasn't left with either of those, though. No no. 

He had _BOTH._

So why can't he just have a good year or three to himself...? Why can't school just go fuck itself in the ass and leave him _alone...?_

Torturing the man who gave him a half-decent summer and a loving caring home is his best course of actions right now. Being a kid has its benefits. No one holds a ten year old fully accountable for their wrongs.

Besides, snooping through David's stuff was basically just basic protocol for this kind of situation, yeah? He seriously doubted that this baby of a man would have any kind of weapons or shit in his tiny 'house', but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

David'll never find out, and it'll hopefully give him some piece of mind. Or delicious blackmail material. Either way it's a win-win.

 

"Didn't you ever fuckin' _wonder_ why and HOW I know that Brad shaves in the goddamn SHOWER, Joshua?!" 

"Pacifica," the morified sound of some snobby stuck-up white guy responded to the valley girl without a moment's notice. "You didn't..." 

"Yes, Joshua!" the she-mutant shrieked back. "I was hanging out with _Bradley!!_ " 

" _Noooooo!!! Pacificaaaaaa!!!_ " 

"Wow. What a bitch," a third voice added after Joshua's long and needlessly held out wail. 

Joshua fell to the floor, clutching his heart and crying like motherfucker. Meanwhile, Pacifica flips her straight-ass blonde hair and stomps off. 

At least, that's what he has to assume has happened. Sitting on the couch and watching TV while hanging upside down has its downsides. ... For once, pun entirely intended. 

This dumb sit-com he'd found while mindlessly browsing the channels had done well to tame Max's rampant mind. It was vapid drivel that only served to entertain five year olds because of the swearing. Teenagers for the boobs. 

Max for both. A combination of the two could be pretty enjoyable when done right. He'd tried to watch porn on the TV one time when David wasn't home, but he'd forgotten how fucking _thin_ these walls could be. Long story short: The neighbors complained to David. 

And speak of the devil, Mr. Campfire Song Enthusiast is currently rushing around in the kitchen doing who-knows-what. His usual routine of getting ready for work. 

Well, he assumes so, anyway. This is the same shit as always. Before long he'll run out, give him a sandwich or something, try to pat his head and get slapped away, and rush out the door- never to be seen from again until ten. Sometimes later.

One night the loser never came 'home' at all. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't BRIEFLY considered trying to check up on him, but his PERFECTLY REASONABLE QUESTIONS AND CONCERNS were quelled and answered at around six in the morning. 

Turns out he'd just had to fill in for someone else's shift or something. Though he had to have been fucking _exhausted_ , he didn't crash until the following night. Even drove him to school, too. 

It's times like those where he wonders if David is some kind of super-human entity, or just really really brain-dead. Probably an equal mix of the two. Who the fuck drives a child to school while being half awake??

"Aaaaalright, Max, here's your snack- food is important!" the smiley devil himself interrupted in a rushed manner. He barely even gave Max a look before forcing a sandwich into his hands. 

It's peanut butter and jelly. Great.

"Dinner is in the fridge; I made spaghetti! Don't stay up too late and I'll be back later tonight!" 

"You're not my dad-" 

"Of course, Max! See you again before you know it!"

There goes David. There goes the door. 

It slammed and left the shitty apartment emptier than usual. And he really wished that was an exaggeration.

Aside from a few stray shirts and shit on the floor in the corner, all David really seemed to have in the 'living room' was a conjoined couch-bed, a pretty decent TV, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a kitchen off to the left; by the front door. 

Not messy, but not neat. He'd been in David's room several times- purely to use the equally empty bathroom each time. David owns jack shit. Only pictures and clothes and Camp Campbell _everything._

You'd think David would take down his Camp Campbell flag and burn all of his camp photos since the forced shut-down of everything. No Mr.Campbell, no camp. But no. 

He _didn't_. Max had just assumed the guy was grieving like the camp was one of his lost lovers. Minus the tears. 

Oh, he'd cried. A shit-ton. 

Just not as much as he'd anticipated.

Growing tired of sitting on his ass doing nothing, he reached for the the TV remote (missing quite a few times) and turned off the mindless program. Once that was over, he took a bitter bite from his 'snack'. 

He had to begrudgingly say that it didn't taste half-bad. Nothing David has given him has tasted that bad. It's almost like he's putting actual _effort_ into these quick little things. 

"Ehh..."

Man... If it weren't for his plan for tonight, he'd say that he actually might be missing Nikki and Neil. Only just a little bit. 

A _LITTLE_ bit. 

Boredom does some weird ass shit to you.

... And... hey... They weren't always the worst human beings imaginable. Just Nikki. She had next to no redeeming qualities.

Thoughtlessly chewing the peanutty, vaguely grape-flavored mush, Max scooted himself off of the couch and gave a well-needed stretch. Half a sandwich sticking out of his mouth, his hair a mess, and dark bags under the poor kid's eyes, Max nestled his hands comfortably into his beloved hoodie pockets. 

It's time to get down to business.

Devious little eyes naturally trailed to David's door. A malevolent smirk followed right along with it. David has to have some skeletons in his closet that he's not aware of yet. That dude is an enigma. 

Stalking along almost casually through this practically alien scenery, Max took his sweet time during his little soujourn. David had just left, so what's the rush? Besides, he still need to think about what to check first. 

Slowly yet surely munching on that sandwich still, the door obnoxiouly creeked open; being forced ajar by a small tan hand. Bright eyes peered into the dark windowless room- not unlike the eyes of the Cheshire Cat. 

Mischevious and promising trouble, just like always. Taking a step into the den of the beast, Max found his attention being directed to a drawer by the bathroom door. 

David had no actual closet, as far as he knew. If not for under his bed, then that guy _had_ to have something of actual interest in that drawer. And if all else fails, who knows what you could find scattered around the apartment itself? 

His days of lounging around on the couch all day were over. New 'house', new Max. 

Humming a pleasant little tune to himself that was actively being muffled by that PB & J, he reached his destination in less than six steps. Grubby little hands found their way to the drawer handle, and jerked open it was. 

"... Fucking _really?_ " 

Disgust greatly impeded, Max decided to scarf down the rest of his food to get it over and done with. If there was one thing he was expecting to see today, David's boxers were _not_ it.

They reminded him too much of a certain _IMAGE_ that he'd thought he'd blocked out. That drawer was closed immediately, and he moved onto the next one. 

Cheeks flushed and eyes less calm, he became visibly less bristled upon finding your typical T-shirts and shorts in this one. He was fine with touching those, but he had to make sure to not make his tracks too obvious.

Reaching down between the clothes and trying his best to not disturb anything too much, he felt around the bottom of the wood. Smooth and cold, but ultimately useless information. All David had in here were clothes, it seems.

Two drawers open, one left.

Sighing in disappointment, his current investigation location was slammed shut once more. Exhibiting no hesitation, Max knelt down and narrowed his eyes at the contents he'd come across.

At first, he'd thought it was clothes again, but no. It looked like... scarves...? No... No. No, those are shirts. They've just been folded into makeshift bandanas or something.

Yellow Camp Campbell shirts. Why... the fuck. Does David have more than _one_ of these...? So he has more for later...? 

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he dipped his hand down into the pile of clothes. This was getting kinda boring. He'd chosen the wrong spot to begin his search. This was a bad decision on his part.

He'd have to check the bed next. Hopefully he doesn't find some kinda fleshlight or something from the dude. Granted, he really doesn't suspect David of owning any shit like that. God, he better not. 

Though, if he does, he honestly can't really blame him. It's only natural, eh? Disturbing to think about, and highly unwanted information, but natural. 

After a few more seconds of his sweep of the bottom of the clothes drawer, Max had been just about to give up and try looking under the bed. It was only when he was pulling his hand out that he bumped into something that felt... unusual. 

"...?" 

His curiosity having been reignited, he gripped onto this object and attempted to carefully pull it out of the pile of Camp Camp merch. It felt like some kind of plastic. Almost pleasant to the touch. 

Finally being able to pull out his loot and look it over, the first word that he was able to read was 'Fluoxetine'. 

"'Fluoxetine'...?" he found himself whispering. He knew a handful of drugs, but _this_ was not one of them. It does sound familiar, though...

"The hell is _this_ for, David?" 

Trying to read the bottle got him next to no helpful information. 'Take as directed' was printed on the side of it, and it said it was for David, but for _what?_

Naturally, he could very easily look this up and get the answers he was looking for. Unfortunately, he was not allowed to bring a phone to camp. Not like he ever really _had_ one in the first place anyway, but still.

David didn't even have a shitty ass computer, either. Just a house phone with his phone number on a sticky-note beside it. He was all alone in this mystery. 

Of course, he could have just assumed that they were like anxiety meds or anti-depressants or something reasonable like that. He'd suspected that someone like Camp Man would secretly be depressed; who wouldn't?

However, the one thing that was beginning to solidify his building fears was that further investigation in that same drawer led to bigger conclusions. If the guy had _one_ bottle, then did he have- 

Fingers grazing up against something of the same texture regrettably confirmed his suspicions. Breathing getting a little funny, Max unthinkingly dropped the medicine bottle that was already in his grasp. No longer feeling such a strong need for discreetness in his work, he disregarded those folded shirts in order to reach the stash.

The drug stash that he now _knew_ David had. The drug stash that he'd _ALWAYS_ had. 

Of course! How could he have been so _STUPID?!_ _THAT'S_ David's secret! No sane person can be as happy-go-lucky as him- regardless of their upbringings or world-views. He's just a drugged up psycho lunatic who's just been LYING to him this whole damn time!

 _Lying._

Max's eyes scanned the small collection of bottles stuffed carelessly in the corner of the drawer; underneath all of that worthless Camp Campbell merchandise.

 _LYING._

There had to have been at least six of them there. He didn't bother to count. He'd seen enough. 

_David had been LYING to him..._

" **When is that little shit coming home...?** "

 

The couch somehow felt even less reassuring and comfortable than it had a few hours ago that day. 

Max found himself huddled up in the corner of David's shitty ass couch, in his shitty ass living room, hugging one of his shitty ass pillows. Eyes wide and beyond paranoid, he had to take this time to wonder one thing: 

_Where did he go_ wrong..? 

Where did he go so _wrong_ in his life to have all of this happen to him? Shitty parents are one thing; hell, they're kind of a given in most parts of the world. But being forced from one awful situation to _another?_ And to have the awful situation actually seem kinda _nice_ at first? 

That's no coincidence. It's a SIGN.

A sign that he's never going to fucking be _HAPPY._ Not that he's saying he could ever be _'happy_ living with DAVID. He's never happy. EVER. 

It's just that, with David, there is no yelling. There is no arguing. There is no hatred between your parents that's mainly directed at you. The only arguing and yelling going on in this house came from him and him alone 

For laughs. 

...

God. He might have a problem. 

Fuck. FUCK! This all might just be so fucking SIMPLE, but he's too fucking STUPID to see it! 

David. FUCKING _DAVID_ being some kinda dangerous druggie? Without showing the obvious symptoms?? Without ever ONCE acting a little 'strange' around him?? 

'Everything David does is strange', he reminded himself; and that's not wrong. It's just not _right._

David is David. He's not anything BAD. He's just... DAVID. 

Or 'Davey', he supposes, but that's besides the point.

"... I've gotta be going crazy, Mr. Honeynuts," he confided, looking across from himself on the couch. Gwen had returned his beloved possession to him a while back. He didn't care how or why. All he cares about is keeping his best friend hidden under the couch when he isn't alone.

Blinking erratically, he released the pillow and reached forward to grab his stuffed bear. Mr. Honeynuts wasn't doing any good being fucking a hundred miles from him.

"I'm gonna die in this house. If I just dismiss this shit, I'm gonna _die_ in this house. David's gonna one-up me. H-He's gonna... H-He's gonna drug himself up and KILL me! Th-Then he's gonna snap out of it and regret it like the pussy he is! I don't want that guy crying over my corpse." 

Reluctantly, Max allowed this ridiculous train of thought to continue. "B-But if I _don't_ dismiss this shit, then I'll just end up being WRONG and David'll have a good ol' laugh at my child-like stupidity! There's no winning this, Mr. Honeynuts! The man has me wrapped around his goddamn finger!!" 

_David's a fucking genius!_

He's an evil mastermind and needs to be taken out. Fucking manipulative piece of SHIT! Of course! The ONE PERSON who's nice to him no matter what is the red flag that he'd so foolishly accepted into his life! 

That red flag was as vibrant and fucking visible as ever, and he ignored it. And now he's in that red flag's home, allowing that red flag to cook him meals, and- 

" _Oh god._ "

_That sandwich..._

_HE'S BEEN BEING POISONED FOR_ WEEKS!!

Dropping Mr. Honeynuts, Max made a mad dash for the bathroom; stumbling and tripping more than once in his panic. He suddenly felt the most sick he had in months. 

Flinging David's door open, he sprinted past that dumb-ass drawer and into the bathroom. There he was violently sick in the toilet. Knees wobbling and eventually caving in on him, he fell to the floor and knelt down in front of the very same toilet that he vowed to fucking SMASH. With a HAMMER. ... EVENTUALLY. 

Not right now though. He's having a little freak out at the moment. 

" _Fuck,_ " he groaned, flushing the toilet. That was the fucking WORST. 

Going over to glare in the nearby mirror, he quickly washed his hands without really paying much attention to it. After that, he made sure to rinse and gargle to get that vile taste out of his mouth.

Sighing to let out all of his unwarranted tension and stress, Max held his head in his hands. 

"Calm down. Calm down. You need to calm. The _fuck._ Down." 

Running his hands through his hair, he looked himself in the eyes and decided to have a real talk with himself. This has all gone too fucking far. 

"Alright, listen up you piece of shit. David is _not_ some kind of drug addict. He's probably just depressed or some shit- maybe he has Autism and they're for his retarded ass brain." He paused a moment, realizing what he'd just said. 

"Okay, that was messed up. Don't say that shit again." 

Max reaches forward to gently pat his reflection. 

"BUT YEAH. Yeah, that _has_ to be it. You just made yourself puke up your guts for no good reason. Feel stupid now and cover this all up later when David gets home. Nothing. Happened. You sat on that couch like a good little traumatized kid, and you ate his goddamn spaghetti. GOT IT?" 

He made his reflection nod, then left the bathroom to go begin covering his tracks. His alibi would hold no water if he left David's house in disarray. 

Begrudgingly strolling back to that damned drawer, he went to work with minimal hesitation. He could still feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. Refolding Camp Man's 'precious' shirts felt like a trivial task at best, but it was necessary. 

Clothes he could fold. Those bottles could go fuck themselves. 

He'd finished with shaking hands and unexplainable tears pricking his eyes. It was stupid. He was being a stupid little kid. 

Wiping his face off on his hoodie sleeve, he got back onto his feet and hurriedly left the bedroom. Mr. Honeynuts was still on the couch, right where he'd left him.

The apartment was eerily silent; aside from the ever-present commotion of the complex that you only really notice if you pay attention to it. 

Allowing his shoulders to slump a bit, something inside of Max found the tranquility the tiniest bit calming. Standing all alone in a new location should be terrifying. It IS terrifying. But he doesn't feel like he's in danger. At least, not fully. 

All of his actions made little to no sense. He was jumping to irrational conclusions. The way Mr. Honeynuts was poorly positioned against one of the pillows on the couch was, for lack of a better word, pathetic. 

It expressed all of the apathy that he _should_ be showing right now. So _what_ if David has a bunch of 'Fluoxetine'? So _what_ if he takes some kinda drug? 

That real talk in the bathroom had really done nothing for him in the end, huh? If he's still trying to convince himself that he's acting WAY out of line, then there really was no point to it. 

Will _nothing_ calm him down..? 

Robotically treading through the living room, Max cast a down-trodden look to his longest friend. He was becoming more unsure of himself than ever. David is expected to be back before long, and he still couldn't get his act together. 

What's _wrong_ with him?? 

Shaking his head to get himself back in the game, he nervously opened the fridge. Milk, a couple of apples, old macaroni and cheese, some lunch meat- oh, there it is. 

The black pot in the bottom of the dingy ass fridge had to be the spaghetti. He just had to stuff this into his face and lie to David. Easy as pie.

Getting the pot onto the kitchen counter, he haphazardly pulled a fork from the silverware drawer and stabbed it into the pile of pasta. If he took like, one really big mouthful, he would have technically eaten dinner. The specifics didn't have to matter, did they?

A giant glob of tomatoe-y mess was jammed into his mouth without a second thought. Dinner was eaten, and only a fork had to be cleaned. Success. 

He swallowed a little uneasily- greatly disliking the sensation of food so quickly after being sick. It settled horribly in his stomach and made him want to force himself to puke again just to get the rock in his gut to go away.

Even so, he tossed the fork into the sink and shoved the pot back into the fridge. No hassle, no fuss. Now all he had to do was sit on his ass and do literally nothing until David got back. 

Then go on with his life.

It was that simple. 

Remaining rigid in the tiny kitchen, Max found himself stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Contemplation of his previous actions at its finest point that night.

'If it's that simple, then why doesn't it _feel_ simple?', he asked himself.

He had no doubt that he wouldn't get caught by now, but that wasn't his main concern. He wanted to know if any of this was even the _right_ course of actions. If anything he'd stressed over even mattered in the long run. 

If he didn't question David, then he'd probably never know. But if he _did_ , then he'd run the risk of potentially being wrong and being seen as a spazz.

That very same dilemma just kept popping up and wouldn't be quelled. It vehemently refused to be. 

"Hhhggmmmm," Max grumbled angrily. The growing discontent was getting the best of him. 

David, the little bastard, would just end up coming out on top somehow. Right or wrong, there is no knocking him down from his pedestal. 

What pedestal, he may ask himself? He didn't consider his new plan long enough to answer that question.

A door was slammed outside, and a knife was grabbed inside.

Footsteps grew closer- only further igniting his paranoid delusions. He was just a kid; he didn't know what else to do! He barely even knew any better. Lacking the foresight needed to make such drastic decisions, Max found himself in a predicament of a lifetime. 

Playing the role of the fearful hero facing off against the nefarious bad guy. The nefarious bad guy that... might not be so bad afterall. 

That cursed door was opened. Child and man stood face-to-face- a weapon being pointed at the latter; creating a fine line between them.

"Heya, Max! I'm back home from- _Woah!_ " that goofball of a former camp counselor exclaimed. Hands were raised in a defensive motion, and deer-like eyes were widened to the size of headlights. 

" _What are the bottles for,_ David. . ?" 

" _WOAH!!_ " The idiot looked at Max like he'd gone insane. And maybe he had. " _What_ are you talking about..?! If this is some kind of joke, Max, it isn't funny one bit! I'm going to have to ask you to drop the knife."

"You aren't my fucking _DAD_ , David! Just answer the goddamn question!"

"I don't understand what you mea-" 

" _BOTTOM DRAWER. YOUR ROOM._ " 

"What- O-Oh..." 

"Yeah that's right- _the fuck are they FOR?_ " Unrelenting, Max poked the man's leg with the tip of the blade.

"M-Max... I-" 

"THE FUCK IS THAT RACKET DOWN THERE?!" a booming voice had the _nerve_ to cut into their conversation. It grated on Max's ears- and by the look of David, it wasn't much appreciated by him either. 

It was unexpected, but quite frankly, it really shouldn't have been. Here they are. Screaming at each other while in an apartment complex. Of fucking course people are going to hear them. 

" _Max,_ " David uttered in a harsh whisper, posture still stiff. " _Start. Barking._ " 

" **WOOFEDY-FUCKING-WOOF.** "

" _That's NOT what I-_ " 

"THAT 'YA FUCKIN' _DOG?_ " 

Taken aback by the response, David seemed at a loss for words at first. 

"U-Uhh, y-yes! Yes, I am SO very sorry for the noise! M-My dog is being quite feisty today, haha!"

Silence from the lady. But then: "... 'Ya got a weird ass dog..." 

Both Max and David rushed at the opportunity to close the conversation. " **THANK YOU** /I know..." 

They waited and waited for another response from that annoying lady, but one never came. Wanting answers, and wanting answers NOW, Max returned to interrogating his prisoner. 

" _Well. . ?_ " 

David seemed to relent. A heavy sigh was given and hands were lowered. He gestured vaguely to the kitchen and tried to edge his way towards it. 

". . ." Max allowed this, but he kept the knife pointed at this sicko. 

Showing that he meant no harm, David turned back around to face the knife-wielding kid once he'd reached the counter. Leaning up against it and crossing his arms, he didn't seem as scared as he had been initially. Just kinda... tired? Is that the word for it? 

Shifting his weight, the small psycho never let up his anxiety-ridden glare.

"Why were you looking through my things, Max..?" 

"Why do you _THINK?_ " 

David didn't give him an immediate answer. Max's anger that had boiled over and caused all of this mess in the first place was slowly, yet surely, cooling down. 

Soon, it was just... fear. That was all he could label it as. Even if he didn't _want_ to admit that he was afraid, that had been the only thing fueling him this entire time. 

Isn't it always? 

"I'm not angry, Max," David began to elaborate. "You have every right to be upset with me. I should have been honest and up front with you from the start. I'm sorry. You don't deserve such a scare- not after what you've been through."

There's that tone again. That stupid fucking tone that David always uses when he's trying to be 'real' and 'genuine'. It's so fucking _FAKE._

It HAS to be. There's no other explanation! 

"W-Who fucking just has 't-take as directed' on their pill bottles..?" His voice faltered. He hated it. "F-Fucking NO ONE! You.. You're trying to play this off or something... I-It doesn't make _sense_ , but-" 

"They're just anti-depressants, Max."

" **Bull-fucking-SHIT.** "

"It's true! Sometimes people just... need an extra little 'push' to help them get through their day. That's all those are for me- really."

In just a few simple words- a few _BASIC_ fucking words, all the fight left his body. The answer had been glaring at him the whole time. He'd already known what the answer was before he got it. 

A voice in the back of his head was yelling at him- telling him not to believe a word David's saying. 'There's no way it's really THAT simple', it's saying. 'Just use the house phone and call the cops on his ass'. 

'Why _wouldn't_ he be lying to you? Use your fucking BRAIN!' 

Something clattered to the floor. Max didn't see exactly _what_ , but he heard it. Something brushed up against him briefly. Again, he didn't see what it was, but he'd felt it. 

Water was obscuring his view. Everything was getting dark and fuzzy and he absolutely **despised** it. Sniffling and sobbing like a little baby right in front of David. 

How much lower could he _get?_

Empty hands, left cold by abusive negligent parents that had wanted nothing to do with their son, were filled, warmed, with something soft. Something comforting and greatly welcomed at the moment. 

He clung to this object with all his might. He stifled his childish noises in its silky fur. It was like a little miracle. A little slice of heaven in the hell that is his life.

Being hoisted up by some unknown source, Max didn't even mind it. He had Mr. Honeynuts here with him, so no matter what happened next, he'd be safe. 

"It's alright, Max. You're gonna be alright. I promise I won't tell anyone about this, okay?" 

Settled onto the couch, he acted like he hadn't heard David. Just talking in general would be a mistake at this point. All he'd be able to say are incoherent babbles and whines. 

The room was quiet; or, as quiet as it could get with him being such a crybaby. David wasn't giving some kind of lecture or spiel about how it was normal to cry, or about how his life was bound to improve from here on out. 

It was almost... nice. Just having this silence. This mutual understanding between the camp fanatic. Even David taking a seat next to him didn't ruin the moment.

"Are you okay?" 

An eternity must have passed before Max heard another voice besides his own. The air was still. Calm, actually. His face was tear-stained, but that seemed like a change for the better. A storm had just passed, and with it, brought clearer brighter skies.

Was it odd to say that he felt almost... at _peace..?_

"I don't know," he admitted in a soft whiny voice. 

"Do you want to watch some TV?" 

"No..." 

"Do you... want to talk about it?" 

"..." 

What is there to even talk about? Everything's over. He was shown that he really didn't have any reason to be afraid of David. It was something that he should have KNOWN right off the bat, but when you're used to being lied to, some things just always seem like poorly disguised lies, he supposes.

"Th-There isn't much to talk about... S'just... dumb family stuff.." 

"Oh. Well. I know a lot about dumb family stuff. Care to try me?" 

What is this guy getting at..? 

"Meh... I just th-thought that you were some kinda druggie, a-and that you were gonna go nuts on me at some point." 

"Has that... happened to you before...?" 

Max didn't know how to respond to that. 

David seemed to take his silence as a queue to speak up. "Well, whatever happened back home with your parents, you don't have to tell me. I just want you to know that you're always allowed to talk to me about anything. Alright?" 

"Mhm..." 

"I care about you, Max." 

That was the nail in his hypothetical coffin. If word of **ANY** of this got out to _ANYONE_ , he'd fucking stab David for real. But, for right now, Mr. Honeynuts was no longer his priority. Scooting himself over just a bit, he took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around David. 

"Oh!" 

" _Not a word._ " 

"I didn't say anything," the loser teased good-naturedly. A gentle pat was given to the ten-year old's head, and all was well. 

Max couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd taken the time to actually hug someone who wasn't a stuffed animal. So far, that title belonged only to the one person he'd grown to despise over the years.

He's not sure whether to laugh or feel like even more of a screw up. 

"I have a good feeling that you're not going to have to worry about your parents for a good long while, Max," David said, practically out of nowhere. 

Such a statement by itself would have just been dumb and obvious. It's not like they're going to come over here guns blazing and demanding their son back; so why the comment? 

Pushing himself away from his makeshift parental figure, Max raised his head to shoot him a puzzled look. 

"... Why do you say that..?" 

David returned the look, but something about it made him freeze. The smile on his face seemed... off. Something about his expression felt like it lacked the typical warmth that you'd usually get from the guy. 

The absolute _contempt_ in his voice was enough to genuinely catch Max off guard. 

" **Because I'm going to be seeing those fuckers in court.** "

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry this isn't a Never Ending Night update, but I hope you got enjoyment out of this fic regardless! I've been feeling pretty down lately. Doing just about anything, let alone writing, has been tougher than I'd like to admit. I hope some Camp Camp can make up for that. 
> 
> Never Ending Night plans to still be updated, but while it's being worked on, I'll post smaller one off stories to make sure I keep uploading content for you guys. Leave your comments down below and let me know what you all think of my first Camp Camp fanfiction; as well as telling me what you'd like to see from me next! 
> 
> Love you, guys~! 
> 
> If you ever want to contact me, my Tumblr is here- https://painful-prose.tumblr.com/  
> My Discord is #9068


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